


That Motherzilla-of-The-Bride Fic

by WhoInWhoville



Series: I love AUs [14]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Wedding, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die, maybe? - Freeform, mean sylvia, over-the-top sylvia, pre-romance ten x rose, rude sylvia, wedding florist and photographer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: Sylvia Noble: Motherzilla-of-the-Bride. But Donna, Rose, and Jonathan Smith are quite adept at standing up for themselves.





	That Motherzilla-of-The-Bride Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Response to fic prompt: [I’m the caterer and you’re the florist on a huge expensive wedding and we bond over what an awful person the mother of the bride is AU](http://whoinwhoville.tumblr.com/post/160067615932/im-the-caterer-and-youre-the-florist-on-a-huge) (with a few adjustments to the prompt). Not really a TimePetalsPrompt, but wanted to tag it as such for my own filing system.
> 
> For the record, I really don't think Sylvia could ever be this mean. Wrote this for laughs.

“That dress does _nothing_ for your figure. You look like a wedding cake topper. What do you need pockets for, anyway? Frosted coral lipstick? I don’t know why you even need a new dress. The one you wore to your _first_ wedding was gorgeous.”

 *

“Purple and lavender? You know I don’t wear purple. I simply won’t. It is the colour of mourning. But then again, I _am_ in mourning over this marriage.” (sniff sniff)

 *

“Cupcakes? Really Donna. I know money is tight, but that’s going too far.”

 *

“This reception hall is in a very rough part of town. No one is going to dare to go to the reception! Afraid their cars will get nicked. Pick someplace else.”

 *

“You can afford an open bar, but you are serving frozen starters from Tesco. You haven’t even hired a proper caterer.”

 *

“You are going to need more fairy lights to brighten up this dismal reception hall. At least you found a location in a _safe_ part of town. But I can’t see my hand in front of my—“

“I. Have. Had. ENOUGH! I don’t want your help. And I certainly don’t _need_ it!“

“But darling, it’s only three months away! And I have so much to do!”

“I am taking care of everything, and am doing a bloody good job of it, too.”

oOo

“Donna Noble, you will _not_ sign that contract. She has _no_ experience! The flowers will be a disgrace. I will _not_ have my garden club friends gossiping because you carried a bouquet of food-colouring-dyed pink carnations! If you choose Rosie’s Posie’s, I’m withdrawing my support of your marriage.”

“Your _support_? What do you mean by _support_? You’re not the one shelling out the money for my wedding! Lee and I are paying for it! And as for _support_ , you _supported_ Lance. Even after you found out that he was a two-timing, cheating arse! You got angry with _me_ after he left me at the altar! _Support my third foot._ ”

“Lance has ambition! He’s going places! I saw him at the market the other day. No ring on his finger, Donna. There’s still a chance. Call him. Apologise.”

“Apologise for what? For not inviting him to the reception?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re making the mistake of your life. Lee owns a fishing tackle shop. No one goes fishing anymore. Do you really think there is a future in tying flies?”

“Lee is a _good man_ and we love each other, and I’m getting married whether you _support_ me or not!”

Donna squinted at her mother, and with a toss of her glorious ginger hair, signed the florist’s contract, even adding a smiley-face at the end of her name.

Sylvia stood slowly. “Goodbye Donna.” She sniffed. “Come and see me sometime, maybe when you’ve decided to stop being so hurtful.” The blonde woman gathered her things, wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, and quietly left her daughter’s flat.

Rose Tyler, the forgotten third person in the room, cleared her throat. “Right. Um, thanks. We can go over the details when you’re ready. Why don’t you call me—“

“No. We’ll do it now, Rose. Your designs are exquisite. First thing I want to order: a food-colouring-dyed Carnation corsage for my motherzilla-of-the-bride.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and then she snorted a laugh.

oOo

“I forbid you to hire that _person,_ Donna Noble. That man is a farce! He isn’t even a professional photographer! He’s a professor! You’ll regret it every time you open your wedding album and all you see are 1970’s starbursts on the candle flames and out of focus pictures with half of your face cut off. And his idea of creativity is probably photoshopping you with angel wings in a field of stars, being he’s an astronomy teacher. What a useless degree that is. If you hire Professor Smyth, I’m withdrawing my support of your marriage.”

“Again with the _support_. Jonathan is brilliant. He’s a genius. He’s photographed the weddings of royalty!”

“Ha! Queen Victoria’s great-great grandniece twice removed doesn’t count as royalty. You’ve only chosen him because he’s your employer. He’s told you he’ll fire you if you don’t hire him, hasn’t he?”

“No! And I’m not _hiring_ him. It’s his wedding gift.”

“Well, you’d be better off if he bought you towels.”

oOo

“So, what do you think, then?” Rose asked. “Is this what you were thinking of?”

“Rose, these designs are perfect! It’s like you can read my mind. And you’re sure you can do this for the contracted price?”

“Yeah. I have a great supplier. Now, it’s possible that I won’t be able to get the Lily of the Valley. Sometimes it’s scarce, but I have a backup plan. I’m going to force Paperwhite Narcissus. They’ll be gorgeous with the purple crocus and lavender hyacinth. But the purple and white tulips will be the centerpiece of your bouquet. Would you like any iris?”

“Whatever you come up with will be perfect.”

Rose blushed and bit her lip. “Thanks for giving me a chance, Donna, this being my first wedding job and all. Who recommended me?”

“My boss bought me an arrangement a while back. I remembered it.”

“What did it look like?”

“Yellow roses, daisies, and chrysanthemums in a yellow smiley-face mug.”

“I remember that order. The mug was delivered to my shop with instructions to make an arrangement that matched. That he had a friend that needed a cheer-up.”

Donna smiled wistfully. “That was right after the Lance… _thing_. And yeah, it did cheer me up. It’s my favourite mug.”

Rose gently squeezed Donna’s arm. “From what you’ve said, good riddance, yeah? Lee is just about perfect.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

oOo

“Anything special you’d like? Any particular shots?”

“I have a list of all of the standard group shots, but mainly we want to remember our day in a more casual way. Candids.”

“Good. That’s what I like to shoot best. Well, stars are my favourite thing to photograph, of course. How about a few pictures outside? There’s going to be a full moon that night.”

“Sounds perfect.”

oOo

Rose parked as close to the church as she could manage, but it was still several hundred feet away. Her boot, the back seat, and the front of her red VW Beetle were jam-packed with flowers. She wasn’t wearing her usual work clothes — jeans, trainers, and a t-shirt. She and Donna had struck up a friendship, and Donna had invited her to the wedding. Rose almost lost her balance as the heels of her precarious stilettos dug into the gravel of the church yard. “Shoulda brought trainers,” she grumbled as she picked up the first flat of arrangements — the boutonnieres and corsages.

“Oh! Let me help!” called a friendly voice.

“Thanks. I’m running a bit late. Got stuck behind a crash on the way and traffic was backed up for miles. How do you know Donna?”

“She’s my assistant. You know, I ordered flowers from you for Donna a while back.”

“Thanks for that. Donna hired me because of you. What’s your name again?”

“Jonathan Smyth.”

“Hello Jonathan. I’m Rose Tyler. Since you offered, I’m going to put you to work.”

oOo

“Donna, I take back everything I said about Rosie’s Posies. She did a lovely job. Now where’s my corsage.”

She presented her mother with a white box.

“Why’s this box so big?” Sylvia asked as she lifted the lid. “What in blazes is this abomination?”

“You did say you were expecting dyed carnations. Rose’s assistant left the flowers in the purple dye too long and they’re almost black. We’ll call it aubergine.”

“I refuse to wear this hideous thing! It’s six inches across! It’ll block my face!”

“No no no! You don’t pin it to your dress. It’s a wristlet! See?”

“It looks like a ruffled Frisbee. Ridiculous.” Sylvia sneered as she pinched the enormous corsage with her fingertips as if it were a dirty nappy.

“Go on then, put it on. I want to see how it looks. I designed it myself.” Donna grinned.

“No. I refuse.” Sylvia tipped her nose into the air.

“It’s my wedding, and you’ll wear the bloody wristlet.”

“I’m withdrawing my _support_.”

“Support or no support, it’s my wedding. Put the thing on.”

Sylvia hissed as she slipped the enormous floral accessory onto her wrist.

oOo

Jonathan hid outside of the doorway, trying to contain his laughter as he set the camera to slow burst, taking shot after shot. He heard someone else laughing behind him.

“Did Donna really ask for that flower _thing_ for her mother?”

“Donna’s takin’ the mick. I have the real one. She’s gonna give it to her mum right before Sylvia’s ushered to her seat. Isn’t it hideous?”

He grinned at her. “I think it’s absolutely brilliant.” He made a funny little happy noise. “Has Sylvia been difficult to work with?”

“Difficult? There’s no word that describes how difficult. She’s the mother-of-the-bride version of a bridezilla.”

“She gave me a list of about 500 formal family photo configurations. Mother with daughter, mother in chair. Mother with bride and bride in chair. Father and mother with bride, bride in chair holding her flowers in her lap. And then without flowers in her lap. Mother with bride’s flowers. Bride sitting on the steps with bridesmaid’s flowers ‘pillowed’ around her feet. Pillowed. How do you pillow flowers. Wouldn’t be very comfortable to sleep on,” he whinged. “And don’t get me started on the cousins, aunts, uncles, step uncles, step aunts, half cousins, and then Lee’s family and all of those iterations.” He pinched the bridge his nose.

Rose picked at her already-chipped pink nail polish. “I’m done with the flowers. I could, I don’t know, help round up and arrange the people? You did help me set up the flowers, after all.”

“I’d love that. Thank you, Rose Tyler.”

oOo

Jonathan’s pointer finger was sore. It was ten pm, and the dancing was still going in full force, thanks to the unlimited drinks being pouring liberally by the bartender.

“Jonathan, I think you’ve taken enough photos,” Donna said kindly.

“Can never be too thorough. I don’t want you to miss a single moment.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t forget one thing about this wedding.” She snorted a laugh. “Don’t know that my mum is ever going to forgive me for that corsage. It was pretty awful, wasn’t it?”

“Donna, it was perfect.”

“Ha! Serves her right, saying all of those awful things about you and Rose.” She took a sip of champagne. “She did like the real one though. Doubt she’ll ever forgive me.” Donna took another sip of champagne. “So, what do you think of Rose?”

“She’s very talented.”

“Bloody right, she is. Started that florist business all on her own. You know how much I loved those flowers you gave me. How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Yelp. Read the reviews. One review stood out, though. Can’t go wrong with the username Old-Man-With-a-Telescope.”

“Hold on. That’s Grandad’s email address. I set it up for him so he could email those star pictures he takes through his telescope. What a coincidence.”

“There are no coincidences, Donna Noble.”

“Come to think of it, he brought me a bouquet of flowers after _Lance_ ,” she mused. “Must’ve bought ‘em from Rose.”

Jonathan squinted and looked off in the distance. “His name is Wilf, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I _knew_ I recognized him from somewhere. It’s been niggling at me all night. He’s been coming to my planetarium shows for _years!_ Always asks the best questions! Emails me his pictures from that email address.”

“That seals it. You were destined to meet Rose. Now why don’t you go and ask her for a dance.”

“I think that is a brilliant idea.”

She yawned. “Oh, Lee is back from saying goodbye to his family. Time to head out. Please. No pictures. I want to sneak away. Would rather avoid another confrontation with _Sylvia_.” She snorted.

“That won’t do, Donna! You want to remember your clandestine getaway, don’t you?”

Donna pulled her friend into a hug. “Jonathan, thank you. For everything. For putting up with my mother, for the gift. For being a great friend. And for being a great boss.”

“Donna Noble. You are brilliant. Now go. I’ll create a diversion. See you in two weeks.”

“Two? I only scheduled help for one week.”

“I’ve already arranged a temp. And the break is paid.”

oOo

It was the last dance, and Jonathan and Rose were the only couple left. Her shoes were off, she was leaning on his shoulder, almost asleep. They weren’t really dancing so much as swaying in place to a slow song — Frank Sinatra singing _The Way You Look Tonight_. It wasn’t really a romantic moment — more a mutual sigh of relief.

“You really do have a way with flowers,” Jonathan complimented.

“I suppose I was destined to work with flowers, given my name and all.”

“You could do anything and be fantastic at it, I think. And speaking of destiny, how’s this… Donna’s grandfather, Wilf, bought Donna flowers from your shop after her fortuitous breakup with that wholly unacceptable Lance bloke. I wanted to buy her flowers, too, so I Yelped, and found your shop. I read a frankly glorious review — and it turns out it was written by Donna’s Grandad. So I sent Donna flowers, and she was so impressed that she hired you to do her wedding. And here I am. And here you are.”

“Mmmm hmmm. Here we are,” she said contentedly. Beginning of a beautiful friendship, I think. I think we should collaborate again.”

“Oh, I do believe that’ll happen sooner than you think.”

oOo

“Donna Noble-McAvoy! These pictures are completely unacceptable! How in the world did that _amateur photographer_ think it was even remotely appropriate to include that _florist_ in almost every single picture! And look at this album! It’s absolutely hideous! It’s for a five year old! My Little Pony…” She slammed the album shut. “I demand that you ask for your money back!”

Donna snorted a laugh. “Mother, you are just too easy. You really need to learn how to take a joke. Here.” She handed an elegant white leather album to her mother. “Here’s the real one.”

Sylvia opened the book with a disdainful sniff. But then her face softened. “Donna… You’re beautiful. Oh, my baby girl.” She pulled her daughter in a hug, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”


End file.
